


we'll go dancing (wherever you choose)

by ravenreyamidala



Series: happiness abides [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship Between Kent and Jack, M/M, Misunderstanding, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, cross-dressing, idiots to lovers, secondhand embarassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 21:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenreyamidala/pseuds/ravenreyamidala
Summary: Kent meets Bitty, and his first thought is "Oh no, he's hot."or5 times Kent woos Bitty, and one time Bitty does.





	we'll go dancing (wherever you choose)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artifactrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artifactrix/gifts).



> thank you parse posi posse for shamelessly enabling me. i love y'all.

Bitty meets Kent for the first time at a kegster his freshman year. And Kent is so handsome and charming and well--- Bitty develops a little bit of a crush, but this is Kent Parson, Captain of the Las Vegas Aces, Stanley Cup Champion, winner of the fucking Calder. The boy’s straighter than a ruler, and even if he weren’t, there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that he’d ever be interested in Bitty, who can’t take a check without fainting. 

By the end of their conversation, though, they’ve exchanged phone numbers, and Kent’s texted Bitty three never-before-seen pictures of Kit Purrson that Bitty is definitely not going to coo over later. Kent goes up with Jack when the latter turns in for the night, and Bitty can still hear them moving around when he goes to sleep off his inebriation on Johnson’s floor. 

(Johnson said, “It’s important for the timeline that you’re a freshman but also that you spend the night at the Haus. The only reason I’m telling you this is because the author wanted to explain it to the readers, because there’s no way you’ll understand why even after the series ends,” when Bitty asked why he was insisting on Bitty sleeping over.) 

Bitty wakes up to the smell of pancakes and panics, rushing downstairs. He’s greeted by the sight of Kent’s back and his sleep-mussed hair and only marginally relaxes, drawing closer to the stove to confirm that Kent is not going to burn the Haus down. 

“I’m making blueberry pancakes, you want some?” Kent says suddenly, startling Bitty who realizes too late that he’s only wearing briefs under the too-big shirt that Johnson loaned him.

Kent turns around with a plate of pancakes, and Bitty flushes as he pulls up the shoulder of the shirt. Thankfully, Kent doesn’t comment on Bitty’s dishelvement, though Bitty can feel Kent looking him up and down. 

“Sorry, I was worried,” Bitty mutters, before fleeing upstairs to put on his shorts from the night before, which are equally hidden by the shirt but make Bitty feel more secure in more ways than one. 

Jack’s sitting down at the table when Bitty makes his way back downstairs, and he exchanges a look with Kent that makes Bitty blush. Did Kent tell Jack about earlier? He decides not to think about it and sits down. 

“Perfect timing, I just used up the last of the batter,” Kent says, taking a foil-covered plate out of the oven and putting it front of Bitty. 

Bitty removes the foil to reveal the most delicious-smelling and gorgeous blueberry pancakes he’d ever laid eyes on, and his mouth starts watering. He hasn’t brushed his teeth yet, he realizes, but he gets up and rinses his mouth at the kitchen sink before tucking into the pancakes. He moans, eyes fluttering closed as his taste buds rejoice, before he remembers that Jack is seated right across from him. 

“Please don’t say I need to eat more protein, Jack,” Bitty pleads once he’s finished chewing and swallowing. 

“I’d have to be crazy to turn down Kent’s blueberry pancakes,” Jack dismisses, before taking a neat bite. 

Kent sits down with his pancakes neatly stacked in a bowl, which confuses Bitty until Kent starts pouring maple syrup and doesn’t stop until the bowl is threatening to overflow. Bitty can only watch in horror. 

“Don’t you have a nutrition plan?” Bitty finally asks after watching Kent eat several bites of this unholy concoction. 

“Eh, what doesn’t happen in Vegas,” Kent deflects. 

“His trainers probably encourage it, he can never keep weight,” Jack chirps, elbowing Kent lightly. 

“It’s true. It’s a curse,” Kent says, semi-seriously. “I got so sick my first few months because I was burning calories faster than I could eat.”

“Your nutritionist was such an idiot,” Jack scowls. “He told Kent that he couldn’t have carbs! Can you believe it?” 

“Okay, he said I could have some carbs, but not a lot,” Kent corrects, smiling at Jack. 

“Still. An idiot. I still remember that one check,” Jack says darkly. 

“I don’t,” Kent confides to Bitty. “I had a concussion so bad that I barely remember getting married in a Vegas chapel.” 

“Okay, but you thought that was a fake wedding too,” Jack points out. 

“That is true,” Kent says thoughtfully. “Oh well. All’s well that ends well.” 

Bitty can only watch this exchange with wide eyes-- in between bites of the best thing he’s ever put in his mouth, including his MooMaw’s apple pie, as blasphemous as that thought feels. Jack’s...smiling. It’s making Bitty feels weird, so he scarfs down the rest of his pancakes and puts his plate in the kitchen sink to rinse later before hightailing it out of there. 

Kent turns to watch him going, head tilting to check out Bitty’s ass. 

“I call dibs,” he announces when he turns back to Jack. 

“Dibs? On Bitty?” Jack says doubtfully. 

“Oh, don’t give me that, he’s exactly your type,” Kent scoffs. 

Jack doesn’t deign to acknowledge that, because Kent is right. 

“Anyway, I already knew, you don’t make blueberry pancakes for just anyone,” Jack says, matter-of-fact. 

“Aww, are you jealous?” Kent coos. 

“Are you still concussed?” Jack retorts. “Kenny, we’ve been in an open relationship since we started fucking, if I were jealous, I would have brought it up before.” 

“Are you ever going to let that concussion go?” Kent groans. 

“Nope,” Jack says, popping the ‘p’ before taking another bite of his pancakes. 

* * *

Kent and Bitty talk nearly every day. It’s still surprising when Kent invites Bitty to Vegas for the winter holidays, and Bitty spends a couple of day fretting about it before his mother tells him bluntly to go. Kent’s even paying for his plane ticket, although Bitty had to insist on economy class. He spends another couple of days carefully putting together outfits for the weather and makes sure that all the shorts he packs are knee-length. He may look like he’s twelve, but after nearly flashing Kent in the Haus kitchen all those weeks ago, Bitty is determined to be much more presentable during this trip. 

Bitty does make sure to check that he has enough money for a last minute bus ticket from Las Vegas to Madison. He’s not an idiot. Bitty’s been enjoying his conversations with Kent, but Bitty knows how quickly previously-friendly straight boys become hostile once they think a gay boy might be hitting on them. 

But he’s not thinking about that. He’s thinking about how he has enough money for a last minute bus ticket and a ticket to a Britney Spears show while he’s in Vegas. He debates packing a pair of shorter shorts for the concert, but decides against it. At the last minute, he packs a pair of swim trunks, just in case. 

The moment Bitty gets settled on the plane, he conks out immediately. He doesn’t wake up until the plane is landing, and he quietly rejoices in some of the best sleep he’s gotten since he started college. 

Kent’s waiting for him, wearing a tight tank top and baggy shorts with bedazzled sunglasses and a backwards, bright pink snapback. Bitty sees him before Kent sees Bitty, and while Bitty watches, a fan comes up and asks for a selfie. Bitty keeps watching as Kent poses, face neutral. The sunglasses make it impossible for Bitty to tell if Kent’s looking down her shirt at her ample cleavage or not, but Bitty still takes a moment to compose himself before waving to get Kent’s attention. 

Kent’s face breaks into a grin, and he pushes his sunglasses up over his snapback as he waves back. As soon as Bitty’s close enough, he grabs Bitty in a hug. 

“Good to see you, bud!” Kent enthuses, taking Bitty’s bag and sliding his sunglasses back over his eyes as they walk outside, only to be greeted by the bright Vegas sun. Bitty reflexively shades his eyes, and Kent digs in his pocket before bringing out a pair of sunglasses identical to the ones perched on his nose. 

“Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you,” Bitty says gratefully, slipping the glasses on, and sighing in relief as the intensity of the sun recedes into something more tolerable. 

“No worries Bits, I got your back,” Kent says casually. “I fuck you not, I nearly went blind my rookie season, cos I was an idiot who always forgot my sunglasses. I have like three dozen pairs in my car, just in case.” 

“Would be a shame if anything happened to those eyes,” Bitty says, marveling internally at how easy it is to talk to Kent like they do over text. “You need them to play hockey.” 

“Aw, and here I thought you were going to talk about how pretty they are,” Kent says, grabbing his car keys from his pocket and pressing a button. The car closest to Bitty beeps, startling him. 

“I’m sure you get enough of that from your fans, Mr. Parson,” Bitty says primly as he gets into the car. 

He doesn’t reach for the seatbelt immediately-- the black leather is warm, and Bitty doesn’t fancy the metal burning him. 

“I hope you weren’t waiting long,” Bitty says politely once Kent gets into the driver seat, Bitty’s bag safely put away in the trunk. 

“Nah, why do you-- the seats. They get like this even after two minutes here, the fucking black leather,” Kent explains. “I got a little crazy with my signing bonus.” 

“If this is your idea of crazy, I think you’re tamer than I thought,” Bitty says, taking in the interior of the mostly-sensible car. 

“Mainly I wanted a huge trunk in case I ever need to transport my gear,” Kent says, before moving his arm back and looking over his shoulder to reverse out of his spot. “And well, the wrap job was custom. I like blue.” 

“It’s a nice blue,” Bitty says, and tactfully doesn’t add that it’s a rather loud blue. 

“You’re going to love Vegas,” Kent chatters, and Bitty definitely does not watch Kent’s forearms as he takes a right turn. “There is so much to do, and the food, and the performances. We’re going to have so much fun!” 

“That sounds like a lot to fit into a week,” Bitty says wryly, instead of panicking about how expensive it sounds. “I thought I’d go to a Britney show, and that’s about it.” 

“Bitty, you’re going to sleep for a week after this visit,” Kent insists, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re going to paint this town red.” 

“Don’t you have games?” Bitty wonders. “You need to sleep for those.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kent dismisses with a wave of his hand. “But when I can’t go, Jack’ll take you! It’ll be good for him to get out of my house, or else he’s likely to spend the entire week holed up with a book.” 

“Wait, Jack’s here?” Bitty sputters. “You didn’t tell me that!” 

“Yeah, where else would he be?” Kent says casually. “He’ll be chill, I promise. And if he’s not, you have my permission to sic Kit on him.” 

“Are you implying your cat will like me more than she likes Jack?” Bitty says, which was really the only part of Kent’s statement he could reply to coherently. 

“Bud, everyone likes you,” Kent says fondly, reaching over to ruffle Bitty’s hair as they pull into a neighborhood. “Even Jack, under all that hockey robot.” 

“Right,” Bitty says doubtfully, and Kent doesn’t have time to reply to that before they’re pulling into his driveway and then the garage. 

The door to the garage swings open, and Jack’s on the other side, face stormy and arms crossed. 

“You’re late,” he greets Kent them with once they’re gotten out of the car and Kent’s retrieved Bitty’s bag. 

“Can’t control the plane,” Kent says breezily, dumping the bag in Jack’s arms as he walks by, stopping to toe his sandals off by the shoe-rack right inside the door. 

Bitty follows behind, carefully taking his shoes off and arranging them neatly on the rack before reaching to take his bag from Jack. 

“Nah, you’re a guest in our home,” Jack says easily, before following Kent down the hallway. 

“Our home?” Bitty mouths to himself, but follows Jack into the most beautiful kitchen Bitty’s ever seen. His jaw drops as he takes in the double oven and the counter space and the appliances, and the brand new bright blue stand mixer adorned with a big bow that Bitty had only ever seen in car commercials. 

“Told you the mixer would be better than a new camera,” Jack says smugly to Kent. 

“Wait, that’s for me?” Bitty gasps. 

“Yeah, of course. I would have saved it for Christmas, but you’re not going to be here for that, and we were genuinely concerned you might explode if you didn’t bake for that long,” Kent says casually, hands in his pockets as he shrugs. 

Kent’s sunglasses are off, finally, so Bitty can look at him properly and see the pink flush on his cheeks and the way he’s avoiding eye contact with Bitty. If Bitty didn’t know better…

But he does, so he refocuses on the kitchen. 

“This is a gorgeous kitchen, you’re going to have to pry me loose with a crowbar,” Bitty declares. 

“Feel free to have at it, but we do have tickets to a Britney show for later, so make sure you’re ready for that,” Kent says, settling in at a bar stool. 

“Oh, what time? I haven’t bought a ticket yet, I’ll get my laptop out,” Bitty says, looking for his bag, which Jack is still holding. 

“Bitty,” Kent says very seriously. “I said we have tickets. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Oh, but I couldn’t impose on you like that, I can--,” Bitty starts. 

“Let him buy the tickets, Bittle, he’s a millionaire,” Jack cuts in, sitting next to Kent. 

Kent immediately snuggles into him, and Jack wraps an arm around him. In doing so, Bitty catches sight of a plain gold ring on Jack’s hand. His left hand. Bitty’s seen it before, usually hanging from a chain on Jack’s neck, and in this context, it seems anything but innocuous. 

“I think I’m missing something here,” Bitty says blankly, unable to look away from the ring. 

Jack follows his gaze to the ring, before looking back at Bitty, then down at Kent. 

“I thought you told him about our relationship already!” Jack hisses. 

“Relax, he’s chill,” Kent reassures lazily, before opening an eye to look at Bitty. “It’s chill that Zimms and I are married, right?” 

“You’re married?” Bitty says, and to his horror, squeaks on the last syllable. “You’re gay!?”

Kent sits up straight, and his posture changes. He no longer seems so welcoming. 

“Yeah, I am, is that going to be a problem?” he asks, mildly but with an undercurrent of steel in his voice. 

“No, no, of course not,” Bitty says hastily. “Just, I thought-- me too.” 

Kent leans back into Jack, smiling. 

“I thought so,” Kent says, smiling again. “God, for a second there, I thought my gaydar was broken. Scariest moment of my life.” 

“Drama queen,” Jack chides fondly, before kissing the top of Kent’s head. 

* * *

“What are you wearing?” Kent asks, askance, when Bitty comes down after getting ready for the show. “You cannot go to see Britney Spears, live in concert, looking like a frat boy.” 

Bitty self consciously tugs his shorts, trying to make them longer. 

“No, no, we need to go shorter! Show off those toned hockey legs. What happened to the shorts you were wearing when I visited?” Kent asks, getting up from where he was cuddled in Jack’s lap on the couch. 

“I, uh, left them at the Haus,” Bitty says timidly. 

Kent rakes his gaze up and down Bitty, before stopping to think for a moment. 

“How do you feel about dresses?” he asks finally, and Bitty squeaks in surprise. 

“I mean-- what?” 

“My shorts won’t fit you, your waist is smaller than mine. I have some dresses that would look fantastic on you, though,” Kent explains, grabbing Bitty’s arm and pulling him along the hallway into Kent and Jack’s bedroom. 

“Are you sure I won’t look too gay?” Bitty stammers, sitting on the bed. 

Kent walks out of the closet and sits next to Bitty on the couch. 

“It’s a Britney show, there’s no such thing as too gay,” Kent says kindly, taking Bitty’s hand in his. 

“I always wanted to play dress up in Mama’s dresses,” Bitty says absently, looking at their hands before looking up at Kent. “But-- it’s okay? It’s not...wrong?” 

“Bits,” Kent sighs. “No, of course not. If you want to wear a dress, you should wear a dress. I know I said this before, but it bears repeating: have you seen your legs? It should be criminal to hide them away.” 

_ When in Vegas, right _ ? Bitty thinks to himself, and nods to Kent, who grins at him before disappearing into the closet again. Bitty hears him typing on his phone and the woosh of a sent text, followed by the sound of hangers clicking together, before Kent emerges with two armfuls of dresses in every color of the rainbow. He dumps them on the bed next to Bitty before tugging Bitty up and pulling his shirt up. 

“I can undress myself!” Bitty says hotly, standing up. 

“I know, just thought I’d help,” Kent says, winking, before slipping his thumbs into the waistband of Bitty’s shorts and pulling them down. 

“Briefs, excellent, ” Kent says, basically kneeling at Bitty’s feet, and Bitty tries valiantly not to blush. 

Kent stands up in one fluid movement and grabs a dress from the top of the pile before sliding it over Bitty’s head, and the next thirty minutes fall into a blur of trying on dresses and discarding them just a quickly, Kent constantly touching Bitty, and Bitty trying very hard not to react to it.

Bitty’s standing in front of a full-length mirror, Kent hovering behind him, as they examine the dress Bitty’s wearing. It’s a muted green, sparkly, and almost fits Bitty. 

“This is skintight on me,” Kent says, and Bitty can feel Kent’s hot breath on his ear, Kent’s hands on his hips, pulling the fabric taut as if to demonstrate how it would look. “Zimms can’t take his hands off me when I wear it. I see the appeal now.” 

They’re interrupted by a knock at the door, and Kent pulls away from Bitty.

“Zimms, it’s your house too, you don’t need to knock,” Kent says as he pulls open the door. 

“Just wanted to give Bittle his privacy, that’s all,” Jack explains, handing Kent a black and white striped bag. He glances at Bitty, and then takes another look. 

“You look nice,” Jack says, shortly, before ducking out of the room. 

“I think I’ll wear this,” Bitty says, fidgeting with the hem that’s a little shorter than he would like. He can’t even imagine how short it is on Kent, but looking back at himself in the mirror, he feels...pretty. Desirable. 

Fuckable. It feels heady. 

“Great! I had Jack pick up some makeup for you, if you’re up for some more experimenting,” Kent offers, holding the bag out to Bitty. 

“I don’t-- I’ve never used makeup before,” Bitty says hesitantly, and thankfully Kent knows what Bitty isn’t saying. 

“I can show you how to do it,” Kent says. 

Bitty bites his lip, taking a look at the bedside table clock. “Do we have enough time for that?”

“You’re right, I’ll just do it for you,” Kent decides. “Sit on the bed.” 

Bitty looks around for any other chair like surface in the room but there aren’t many options. He sits on the bed, and Kent puts the bag down next to him before straddling Bitty. Bitty lets out a noise, and Kent looks up from where he’s rummaging through the bag. 

“Oh, sorry, just easier this way,” Kent says, before pulling out what Bitty is pretty sure is eyeliner. 

“Close your eyes and stay still,” Kent says, before carefully touching Bitty’s face and tracing the pen over Bitty’s eyelid. It’s a curious sensation, soft and gentle. Kent is so close to Bitty that he can feel the rise and fall of Kent’s chest against his own, soothing. 

“Don’t open your eyes,” Kent warns, before pulling away. 

Bitty can hear Kent rummaging through the bag and then a groan of frustration. 

“I told Jack to get a lip plumper, but it’s not in here, and I’m all out. Just-- trust me, okay?” Kent says, before muttering to himself, “This is not how I expected this to go.” 

Bitty gets the sense he wasn’t supposed to hear that last part, but they’re so close he can’t help it. He doesn’t get too long to think about the implications of that statement before Kent’s lips are pressed against his own. 

He gasps into the kiss, eyes still closed because that’s what Kent said. Kent slips him the smallest amount of tongue before pulling back, and Bitty has to summon every ounce of will to not chase after Kent’s mouth, reminding himself that  _ Kent’s married, you idiot. _

“Oh yeah, look at those lips now,” Kent croons, pressing his thumb into the middle of Bitty’s bottom lip. “I knew kissing you would have your mouth plumping up so prettily.” 

Bitty flushes, but sits still obediently as Kent carefully lines his lips and then applies lipstick. _This is what queer friends do_ Bitty tells himself. _You’ve seen movies. This is just fun._ _It doesn’t mean anything_. 

“Shit, I need to get ready,” Kent curses, dropping a light kiss on Bitty’s cheek before jumping up and rummaging through the dresses. “Hmm, how do you feel about going clubbing tonight, after the show?” 

“Uh,” Bitty says, thinking about it. He figures it’s okay for him to open his eyes now, so he does, just as Kent pulls his pants down. 

“Uh,” Bitty says more urgently, confronted by the sight of Kent’s ass while wearing a dress that will not hide a boner. 

“Oh, yeah, underwear,” Kent says absently, before bending over to look through a drawer. 

Bitty tries not to choke on his spit when Kent picks out a silky blue thong and puts it on, turning to face Bitty. 

“Now, what dress should I wear?” Kent ponders, walking into the closet. 

Bitty looks at all the dresses strewn around the bedroom and wonders how Kent could have more, but is grateful for the reprieve. And then Kent walks into the bedroom wearing the smallest black dress in the universe and holding a corset. 

“Hey, lace me in?” Kent asks, holding the corset out to Bitty. 

“Uh, I don’t know how to,” Bitty says awkwardly. 

Kent looks at the clock and bites his lip.

“Okay, can you go grab Zimms for me then?” Kent asks, before turning back to the dresser and taking out a makeup bag. 

“Yes,” Bitty says, before speed-walking to the living room. 

“Kenny need help with his corset?” Jack guesses when he sees Bitty, who just nods in response. 

Jack’s up in one efficient movement and down the hallway before Bitty can sink into the couch and takes what feels like his first breath since Kent pulled on that thong. 

_ That thong _ . Bitty has to close his eyes and think of the most awful things he can think of, like dairy-free cheesecake or gluten-free croissants. 

And then Kent and Jack walk into the living room, and Bitty has to up the ante and think about his grandfather’s funeral, with the pie crusts made with  _ Crisco _ because Kent is…

The pie crusts. Crisco. Grandfather dying. Bitty’s quiet on the drive over because he’s afraid if he opens his mouth, he’ll say something extremely inappropriate, and it won’t be about how his grandfather’s funeral was open casket but shouldn’t have been. 

The show is amazing. Bitty screams himself hoarse by the end of it, but the best (and worst) part of the night is yet to come. 

Jack drops them off at a gay bar, making sure Kent has the Lyft app already installed and a full battery before he and Kent proceed to make out through the open window, Kent bending over to reach and subsequently causing the shortest dress in the universe ride up and give Bitty tantalizing flashes of that fucking thong. 

The club is so packed that Bitty and Kent have to cling together in order to stay together, and then a Nicki Minaj song comes on over the speakers. Bitty’s back is pressed to Kent’s chest, and he starts unconsciously grinding against Kent when the beat drops. 

“Is this your first time grinding?” Kent asks against Bitty’s ear, breath hot and wet. He puts his hands on Bitty’s hips. 

Bitty swallows and stops moving. Kent’s hands feel so warm on him, feel so right. Bitty tips his head back until it’s resting on Kent’s shoulder. 

“No, no, you’re good,” Kent says huskily, before pushing Bitty’s hips until Bitty is grinding against him again, but different. “Yeah, just like that. So coachable. We’ll have you twerking in no time.” 

“Gotta buy me a drink first,” Bitty manages to say, and Bitty can  _ feel _ Kent’s laughter more than he can hear it. 

_ He’s your captain’s husband _ Bitty tells himself firmly, but allows himself to be pulled at the wrist by Kent, who manages to get them to the bar with minimum contact with the other patrons. 

When Kent asks him what he’ll drink, Bitty has to stop himself from saying  _ Whatever you want _ . 

* * *

**Kent:** We’re passing through Wilcox   
**Kent:** Hehe, cox

**Bitty:** I nearly collapsed from laughter when Meghan Markle was named Duchess of Sussex

**Kent:** Heh, sex

**Bitty:** Willsussexcox. It’s almost a sentence

**Kent:** I love you.

Bitty sweeps his thumb over the last text from Kent, smiling so hard even though his parents will ask him what’s so funny any moment, and he has no lie prepared to tell them. 

And then he remembers Kent is married, to Jack, and his smile fades. He thinks about what to say, but all he wants to do is say it back. 

Kent said it first. It’s not a big deal if Bitty says it back, probably. He stares at his phone, and then at the Christmas tree. It is easier than it’s ever been to put down his phone and meander into the kitchen to make some cookies. Maybe Kent will have texted something else by the time they’re done. 

Kent hasn’t, when the kitchen timer dings, and Bitty purses his lips before deciding to take a leap. 

**Bitty:** I love you too. 

Before Bitty can put his phone into his pocket, it lights up with a new text from Kent. 

* * *

After winter break, Bitty debates whether or not he should keep talking to Kent, since there’s only so long Bitty can be in denial about his feelings. 

The thing is, Bitty doesn’t really have that many queer friends, and it’s not like he can talk to Jack about being queer, and plus, Kent is the best friend Bitty’s ever had. 

And Bitty can’t talk to anyone else about his feelings for Kent, because he might out Kent, and then Jack, and Bitty doesn’t see that ending well for anyone involved. 

Then, two weeks into the semester, Kent sends Bitty a dress. An outfit, really, with underwear and shoes (when did Kent figure out his shoe size?) and makeup. Two days later, one last box shows up with Bitty’s name on it, and Bitty carefully unfolds the tissue paper to reveal a corset. 

The boxes spend another two weeks in Bitty’s bottom drawer, which he doesn’t open. 

So he bakes chocolate chip cookies and knocks on Jack’s door. Jack opens it, grumpy face melting in something a little softer, but not by much, when he sees Bitty. 

“Bittle, you should know by now that the best way to bribe me is not to bring me baked goods that aren’t a part of my nutrition plan,” Jack gently chirps, leaning against the door frame. 

“Oh, right,” Bitty says, looking around for a place to put the plate of cookies, before Jack sighs fondly and takes the plate from him, gesturing for Bitty to follow him into his room. 

Jack sets the cookies on his desk before sitting on his bed. He pats the spot next to him, but Bitty stays standing. 

“Uh, Jack, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Bitty starts awkwardly, before watching with wide eyes as Jack reaches out and snags a cookie. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” Jack prompts when Bitty is stunned into speechlessness. 

“I don’t know how to say it,” Bitty admits, wringing his hands. 

“This is about Kent,” Jack surmises, before taking a bite of his cookie.

Bitty can only nod as Jack lips a trace a chocolate off of his lips before chewing thoughtfully. 

“These are good cookies,” Jack says finally. “Please take the plate with you when you leave, I cannot be trusted with them.” 

“I’m in love with Kent,” Bitty blurts out. 

Jack sedately finishes the cookie. It’s a large cookie. Bitty curses himself for making such big cookies and tells himself to make them smaller in the future.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Bitty wonders, half-desperately, when Jack’s finished his cookie and still hasn’t said anything. 

“Congratulations?” Jack tries, shrugging when Bitty drops his jaw. 

“You don’t want me to-- stop talking to him or anything?” Bitty asks, in a quiet voice. “He’s your husband, aren’t you worried?”

“I know Kent loves me,” Jack says. “You’re fine, Bitty. I trust you two.”

“Just like that?” Bitty says. 

“Just like that,” Jack reiterates, nodding his head. “Now, I have to do homework, so if you’ll--?”

Bitty is looking at Jack’s closed door before he realizes he forgot to retrieve the cookies.

* * *

Kent tells Bitty he’s visiting after a playoff round, and Bitty realizes that the Haus is a mess. He starts cleaning frantically, glad his own season is over and that he had taken easy classes this semester. Jack just watches, bemused, as Bitty systematically cleans his nearly-spotless room. 

“You know Kent’s not going to care if my headboard isn’t dusted once every day, right?” Jack asks from the threshold as Bitty does just that. 

“Shush you, I just want him to feel comfortable,” Bitty says defensively. 

“You don’t have to worry about that, Bittle,” Jack says softly. 

Bitty drops the hand holding the duster as he remembers that it’s Jack’s job to make Kent feel welcome, not Bitty. Bitty is just Kent’s friend. He’s not Kent’s husband. 

So instead he channels his energy into planning the perfect Haus date for Jack and Kent, asking Jack about their favorite foods and perfecting the recipes. When Kent and Jack walk into the Haus, it’s suspiciously quiet, Bitty pops his head out of the kitchen and motions them over. 

“Oh wow,” Kent says, stunned, looking at the food on the counters and the exquisitely decorated table. “You did all this, for me?” 

“For the both of you, silly billy!” Bitty says, forcing himself to sound light and merry. “I thought you’d like a romantic night in. I made sure the team wouldn’t bother you until tomorrow.” 

“The both of us, huh?” Kent ponders, raising an eyebrow at Jack who shrugs slightly. 

Bitty isn’t envious of the conversations they have without talking. It doesn’t make his heart ache. He forces a smile to his face. 

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” Bitty says, clapping his hands together. 

Kent catches him by his waist before Bitty can walk out of the kitchen, tugging Bitty close to him. 

“Where are you going?” Kent asks, not moving his arm. 

“It’s date night,” Bitty answers, confused. 

“Yeah,” Kent says, and his thumb sweeps over Bitty’s hipbone. “It’s date night.” 

“I just said that,” Bitty says, and shit, he’s going to cry if he doesn’t get away soon. 

“I haven’t seen you in months, either,” Kent says lowly, seductively. “I’m sure Jack wouldn’t mind you joining us.” 

Bitty looks at Jack, who just shrugs. Bitty’s beginning to hate those shoulders. 

“I’m sure your husband would like to spend time with you, alone,” Bitty tells Kent, trying to pull out of Kent’s embrace, but Kent holds him tight. 

“Yeah, but I’m the guest, and I’d like my boyfriend to join us for date night,” Kent retorts. 

“Your boyfriend?” Bitty asks, the confusion making him still. “What are you talking about?”

Kent pulls away from him like he’s been burned, and Bitty turns to face him. 

“What’s going on?” Bitty demands when no one says anything. 

Jack sighs and sits down at the table. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” Bitty demands of Jack, who looks to Kent. 

Whatever Kent’s eyebrows say to Jack, it has Jack turning back to Bitty. 

“Kent’s also in love with you, and thinks you’ve been dating for months,” Jack says bluntly, before reaching for the serving spoon in the mashed potato dish. 

“What,” Bitty says flatly. “But, you’re married.”

“It’s called polyamory,” Jack says helpfully, but a look from Kent has Jack shutting his mouth. 

“Thank you, Jack, I can take it from here,” Kent says pointedly. 

Jack just shrugs and begins plating up some food for himself. 

“Alone, Jack,” Kent says. 

“See, if you had been that blunt from the beginning,” Jack chirps, before rising from the table and leaving the kitchen. 

“Blunt, my ass,” Kent mutters, before shaking his head and refocusing his gaze on Bitty. 

“You’re in love with me?” Bitty says, wonderingly. 

“Yeah, I thought it was kind of obvious,” Kent says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“No, no it was not,” Bitty says decidedly. “You’re married! How was I supposed to know you were into me?”

“I sent you sexy underwear,” Kent points out. 

“I’ve never had a queer friend before, I just thought that was what we did!” Bitty protests. 

They look at each other for a beat before they start laughing. 

“We’re...not...aliens,” Kent chuckles. 

“I know, lord, I sound so ridiculous,” Bitty realizes, putting his hand on Kent’s shoulder automatically. 

Kent looks at the hand, and Bitty starts to draw back, insecure, before Kent grabs him by the waist and kisses him. 

Bitty is the first to pull away, blinking up at Kent, dazed. 

“I love you,” he says. 

Kent just kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> so i have ideas for one last story in this verse. yeah, i'm just as perplexed as you are probably. hopefully i can fit someone shaving someone else's legs like i tried to in this story.


End file.
